


Nightmares

by TheNightComesDown



Series: The Pacific - Love Heals [3]
Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 17:59:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17370725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNightComesDown/pseuds/TheNightComesDown
Summary: After a comrade is killed because of a loud nightmare, Sledge reassures Snafu.





	Nightmares

“Get diggin’, boys,” a gunnery sergeant hollered above the chatter of Company K. “These foxholes aren’t gonna dig themselves.”

“Yes, Gunny!” was the cry of every man in the company. Sledge set up his mortar in a shallow divot before pulling a short shovel from his bag. Snafu had chosen a spot for their foxhole, a few feet from where Bill Leyden had begun his own. 

“Take your pack off,” Snafu said as Sledge cut into the soil. “You’re just gonna sweat through your clothes if you keep it on.” Sledge shrugged the straps from his shoulders, allowing Snafu to grab the bag and set it next to his own. As he rifled through his pack for his own shovel, Snafu glanced down at his jacket. He had torn the tattered sleeves off a few days before in an attempt to cool down under the beating sun, but it hadn’t really helped; the fabric was soaked through with sweat. With a grimace, he unbuttoned it and threw it over top of his pack. His skin, brown and beaded with sweat, was taut over his muscled chest. 

“Don’t mind me, I’ll just dig this m’self,” Sledge called over his shoulder. His breath caught in his throat as he glimpsed Snafu’s bare chest. He swallowed hard, and returned to the task at hand. Snafu stomped over a minute later and attacked the shallow hole Sledge had started. 

“I won’t touch them oil drums,” Snafu mused, “but I don’t mind diggin’ foxholes.” He lifted a heaping shovelful of dirt and deposited it atop the pile Sledge had begun. The two men worked quickly and efficiently, finishing their dugout faster than any of the other men. Burgie nodded approvingly as he surveyed their handiwork. 

“That there is a sturdy hole, fellas,” he said, chewing his lip. “Register that mortar, and get some chow while you can.” Sledge hauled the mortar into the hole and set to work adjusting the sight. Snafu clambered in beside him and pulled out their rations for the evening. He deftly sliced into the cans with his knife, setting Sledge’s portion aside for him. He licked the underside of the meat can lid, being careful not to slice his tongue on the sharp edge. 

“Sledgehammer,” Snafu said, cocking his head to the side as he watched the man fiddle with the mortar, “can I ask you somethin’?” 

“I bet you can,” Sledge replied, continuing to crank the handle on the bipod. He wanted to be as accurate as possible, as it meant life or death for the company. 

“Do I ever…talk in my sleep?” Snafu asked hesitantly. His mind ran through possible answers, hoping against hope that Sledge would say no. Sledge peered down the sight once more before he turned around. 

“You don’t talk, so much as you grind your teeth,” Sledge replied, reaching for his can of meat. He shovelled a forkful into his mouth, and looked up at Snafu, who was leaning against the side of the hole. “But sometimes you say things, sure.” Snafu set his can aside as his stomach turned. He reached into the ammunition bag and hauled out a live round. 

“Heads down, boys,” Snafu called out, passing the shell to Sledge. Burgie looked up from his own meal to watch as Sledge dropped the shell into the mortar and ducked quickly beside it. The shell hit the bottom and immediately launched out, flying across the field. The shell detonated right on target, earning Sledge a thumbs-up from the nearby gunnery sergeant. 

“Pass those biscuits, will you?” Sledge asked as he settled in against the far side of the foxhole. Snafu nodded absentmindedly, and tossed the package across the hole. He dug his cigarette rations from his pocket and lit one, burning the side of his middle finger in the process. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, inspecting his hand. 

“Everything alright over there?” Sledge raised an eyebrow. Snafu showed him the reddened area on his finger, which was received with a snicker. He placed the cigarette between his lips and drew in smoke. He let out a groan of relief and slid his back down the dirt wall; this was his first cigarette of the day, and it was nearly 7 o’clock at night. 

“Just run down, ‘at’s all,” Snafu shrugged, meeting Sledge’s eyes. A sickening thud rang out behind Snafu’s eyes. The sound of shovel against bone had been replaying itself in his mind all day. His stomach rolled, tossing around the food he had just gulped down. He clutched at his abdomen, drawing his mortar mate’s attention. 

“You don’t look so good, Snafu,” Sledge frowned, his concern growing deeper as his partner’s face paled. Acid rose in his throat, and Snafu stood quickly and pulled himself to the edge of the foxhole, where he promptly vomited on the soil. 

“Jesus, Snafu,” Bill Leyden groaned, turning away. “Quit eatin’ so damn fast.” Sledge pulled himself off the ground and moved around the mortar towards Snafu. He heaved again, bringing up the rest of his canned meat. Sledge put a hand against Snafu’s back, patting him reassuringly. 

“That’s alright,” Sledge said, “get it all up.” Snafu coughed, wiping a string of saliva from his chin with his forearm. Sledge climbed out of the hole and went to retrieve some water. Snafu dry-heaved several times before slinking back down into the hole, shivering. As Sledge returned, he passed a cupful of clean water down to Snafu, and kicked dirt over the puddle of undigested food beside the hole. Snafu gulped at the water, swishing some in his mouth to rid himself of the taste of vomit. “Now what’s this about?” Sledge murmured, tucking himself beside Snafu, who had discarded his cup, and wrapped his arms around his knees. The scrape of metal on bone rang out inside his skull again, and Snafu shuddered violently. 

“I can’t…get it out of my head…” Snafu swallowed painfully, his teeth chattering so hard he nearly bit through his tongue. “Last night, that fella…” 

“With the nightmares?” Sledge asked, tilting his head to meet Snafu’s eyes. Snafu nodded slowly, not wanting to look up. Sledge unbuttoned his own jacket, shrugging his arms out of the sleeves. He laid a hand on Snafu’s back, encouraging him to lean forward, and slipped the jacket over his shivering shoulders. 

“He wouldn’t stop screamin’,” Snafu said, mostly to himself. The image of the man’s cracked skull flashed before him, of blood mixing with the brown dirt beneath the corpse. The shovel had left a thick crack in his temple, and part of his brain was visible. The officers had tried to keep the men from seeing, but as they had filed past, each had caught a glimpse. 

“Snafu, that was no man’s fault,” Sledge said, gripping Snafu’s knee. “They did what they had to do, but that fella…he was just too…” he stopped, at a loss for the right words. “He just had a bad dream,” Snafu finished, shrugging his shoulders. “We all have bad dreams ‘round here.” He met Sledge’s eyes. 

“I keep thinkin’ maybe all of this is a bad dream,” Sledge admitted, laying a protective hand on Snafu’s back. “But I’ll promise you now that I won’t let that—” “Stop,” Snafu warned, shaking his head. “Don’t you promise somethin’ like that.” 

“Snaf, what are you talkin’ about?” Sledge asked, frowning. “I’m just tryin’ to tell you—” 

“And I’m sayin’ you can’t promise me that!” Snafu growled, pushing himself off the ground, away from Sledge’s reassuring hand. He stood, his back to Sledge. He slid his arms into the sleeves of Sledge’s jacket, and turned his head just enough so that Sledge could hear him mumble, “I need to take a piss.” He climbed out of the foxhole and stood in front of a large rock. The sun was approaching the horizon, and the other men had finally started to finish their holes just as it began to get dark. Sledge glanced over to Bill, wondering whether he had heard their conversation. He whistled in his direction, and Bill looked up. 

“What the hell you lookin’ at, Sledgehammer?” Bill grimaced, waving him away. “Don’t you start pukin’ over here, too.” Sledge saw that Burgie had wandered away to talk with one of the officers. Snafu walked slowly back from the rock, buttoning his dungarees as he approached. He sat down on the edge of the hole, dangling his feet into the pit. 

“Merriell,” Sledge said gently, “I’ll take first watch. Come on down here, alright?” Snafu lifted his face up, and Sledge suddenly noticed how fast Snafu was breathing. He took a step forward and grabbed Snafu’s hand. 

“What are you doing?” Snafu hissed quietly, pulling away from him. “You want fellas to talk about us?” 

He’s right, Sledge thought, that was careless 

“I just wanna talk,” Sledge said cautiously, “so why don’t you come have a seat down here before some Nip sniper blows your head off?” After a moment, Snafu rolled his eyes, but he lowered himself down into the foxhole and crouched against the wall. 

“What?” Snafu snapped, his eyes hard. 

“Did I do something wrong?” Sledge asked softly. Snafu’s face dropped as he heard the vulnerability in Sledge’s voice. 

“Goddammit, Sledge,” Snafu sighed, “’course you didn’t.” He shifted himself so as to be sitting shoulder to shoulder with Sledge. 

“Just talk to me, alright?” Sledge asked, laying his head against the dirt wall. “Mer, I know you have nightmares. You said it yourself; we all have nightmares around here. Who wouldn’t, after what we’ve seen?” He reached out hesitantly and rested his hand on Snafu’s knee. “It’s alright.” 

“It wasn’t alright for that fella, was it?” Snafu huffed, remembering the soldier that had been killed the night before. “He wouldn’t quit screamin’, Sledge. They couldn’t wake him up. What if…” he trailed off, meeting Sledge’s gaze. 

“What if I can’t wake you up?” Sledge asked, reaching for Snafu’s hand. “Are you asking if I’d kill you to keep all these men from getting killed by Nips who might be hidin’ in the bushes?” 

“You’d have to,” Snafu said, shaking his head. “If you didn’t, you’d be an idiot.” Snafu allowed Sledge to slip his fingers through his own. 

“Merriell Shelton,” Sledge said firmly, “I wouldn’t let it get to that point. If you start to move around or make sounds like that, I’d wake you up right away.” 

“What if you couldn’t?” Snafu asked. “What if I don’t wake up, like that fella last night?” Sledge squeezed his hand, his knuckles flushing white as his grip tightened. 

“You would wake up,” he reassured Snafu. “You might be able to sleep through machine gun fire like no man I’ve ever seen, but I swear to you on this Bible,” he said, tapping his breast pocket, “I’d wake you up.” Snafu nodded, squeezing Sledge’s hand back. He leaned his head against the dirt wall of the foxhole, closing his eyes. The sun had finally gone down, and the other men in Company K had settled into their holes for the night. Sledge leaned over and placed a gentle kiss against Snafu’s throat. He turned his head as Sledge pulled back. 

“What was that for?” Snafu breathed softly, opening his eyes just enough to see that Sledge’s face was hovering inches from his own. 

“Well, I thought that, uh,” Sledge mumbled, clearing his throat awkwardly, “maybe if you felt more…” he trailed off. 

“Relaxed?” Snafu suggested, trailing his thumb along Sledge’s stubbled jaw. 

“Sure,” Sledge nodded, “if you felt more relaxed, you might have better dreams.” Snafu let out a thoughtful hmm as he pressed his lips gently against Sledge’s. Sledge breathed in quickly as Snafu ran his tongue along his bottom lip, and leaned further into the kiss. They were quiet, careful about the sounds they made as they nestled into each other in the heat of the night. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Bill Leyden mumbled to the sleeping man beside him in his own hole, who had let out a grumbling snort in his sleep. Snafu jumped slightly as he heard Bill’s voice, but Sledge leaned back and pulled Snafu against his bare chest, calming him immediately. Sledge rested his face against Snafu’s head, rubbing his cheek into the man’s curls. 

Snafu could hear Sledge’s heartbeat thumping along below his ribcage. He tapped the rhythm gently against Sledge’s collarbone, his slim fingers tickling Sledge’s bare skin as he did so. Snafu felt Sledge’s mouth shift into a smile. 

“Quit that tapping and go to sleep, Mer,” Sledge whispered. “I’ll wake you up in 4 hours, or if something exciting happens.” Snafu nuzzled against Sledge’s chest, sliding his hand from Sledge’s collarbone around to his back, pulling him into a tight hug. 

“Promise to wake me up if I have a bad dream?” Snafu asked, yawning. 

“You won’t,” Sledge assured him, kissing the top of his head. “You’ll grind your teeth so hard you’ll need dentures when we get home,” he laughed softly, “but there aren’t any bad dreams waitin’ for you tonight.” Snafu nodded once more, and drifted off. 

Sledge ran his fingers absentmindedly through Snafu’s curly hair as he kept watch, listening carefully for footfalls or rustling leaves. The night air was cooler than the muggy heat of the day, and although his chest was bare, he never felt cold. In the darkness, he heard the chirp of insects and the occasional call of birds, but he spent his watch free of worry for the first time in days as he cradled his sleeping partner against him. As he predicted, Snafu ground his teeth fiercely, but did not cry out in the night as the man had feared. 

What happens when this is all over and we go home? Sledge wondered as the night drew on. Is this happening because we’re afraid and we’re all each other has, or is this something else…


End file.
